No imitations needed...

Imputation is not an imitation...
     It is not about me -
          It is always about Him...
               that changes everything.

Then, I am in Him, His character imputed into me...
     Then I become about the other, as is He
            And loving one another
                  As He does...
                       AND that changes everything.


The Gift transforms us into gifts as He imputes His gifts of grace and love -
   We become His gift to a world...
         But we strive not, because then it is of us -
   We are His and He makes us
         We yield, submit, as He prepares us corporately to be His bride.

"Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. And of some have compassion, making a difference: And others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire; hating even the garment spotted by the flesh."
Jude 21-23

The do is to rest on Him, and we learn the rest gets done.

A parable of pumpkins...

I love decorating for the seasons, especially Christmas - best season of ever; but fall is nice, too. This morning I was looking at my porch with its pumpkins and wreath and thanking the Lord, who harvest is plentiful, even with lessons.
But I need to back up, I went to the porch to deliver the big ol' marked down pumpkin that I picked up on yesterday's zip through the grocery store.  As I set it in the place of the other pumpkin, I noticed that its bumps and irregularity fit it perfectly to the corner of the top step of my stairs. Hmmm...funny, thought I.
It is true that some of things that fit us for our place are the bumps and scars that are so unseemly to the world.  If I had been looking for the perfect pumpkin - I wouldn't have chosen that one, yet it deep burnt orange, tall, and plump - just lovely and the squarishness of part even with its scars might aptly fit to my highest stoop. Which it did...hmmm.
The creator allows us pain filled scars and bumps to coincide with gifts and loveliness in other areas to fit us to the stoop he has designed for our habitation. So often I have embraced the bumps and scars or worst, yet, the gifts and accomplishments in other areas without seeing, it is wholeness, the entirety of it, that brings both beauty and usefulness. The idea of seeing God's hands moulding us in the blessing and adversity - and refusing to give up either. Refuse blessing? ANYONE? Refuse adversity? Everyone?
I find I can gauge my thankfulness and belief of God's sovereignty with this very question. Now, I am not saying that wisdom doesn't compel me to pray and act for the relief of adversity and sorrow.  But when God's answer comes back, "No, this is my will concerning you."  Then what?
Decision time: Do I trust that the bumps that I incur will be for my good. That He is good. That He is acting in my best interest and that give me blessing instead of adversity would be the act of an unloving Father - which He will not, and cannot be?
Funny ol' pumpkin with its scars and bumps...fitted for its place.

A Grand Day...

It could more aptly be said to be a thankful day.  C., our grandnephew, spent the day and is snoozing on the couch. 
While zippy- doodling down the road, I heard him say from the back seat, "God is good!" My heart felt much bigger than my chest for a moment- C.'s outburst was most likely due to his reflecting on the cool bike and great slippers we'd just found at the Goodwill bins.
Later, I was again thankful that the only tool we hadn't lent out to the girls, was the ratchet wrench we needed to fit the new training wheels on that old bike - it worked perfectly. No rouge molecules or unshadowed moments, or anything new in this old world. God is good.
Those times when we see His loving goodness in the small, unextraordinary glimmers are, indeed, grand and extraordinary in deed.

This or the Other?

The War Within Already Won

Who am I? They often tell me

I stepped from my cell's confinement

calmly, cheerfully, firmly

Like a squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me

I used to speak to my warders

Freely and friendly and clearly,

As though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me

I bore the days of misfortune

Equally, smiling, proudly,

Like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?

Or am I only what I myself know of myself?

Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,

Struggling for breath, as though hands were

compressing my throat.

Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voice of the birds,

Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness

Tossing in expectation of great events.

Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance.

Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,

Faint and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?

Am I one person today and tomorrow another?

Am I both at once? A hypocrite before the others,

And before myself a contemptible, woebegone weakling?

Or is something within me still like a beaten army,

Fleeing in disorder from a victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine,

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine.

- Dietrich Bonhoeffer

"Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making, Faint" - I am this this -- He alone is the other. 

Isn't it lovely that He gives us joy through the moving, even when in ourselves, we are at end of all consievable expendable energy?

For this reason I bow my kness before the Father, for whom every family on heaven and earth is named, that according to the riches of His glory He may grant you the power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth, and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with the fullness of God.

"The fullness of God" - now there's some serious expendable energy - grant your power to walk it today, Dear Lord Jesus Christ.

Sweet Words from a Precious Poet

Teddy Bears do not have claws
But teeny, tiny velvet paws,
That softly brush away your tears
And push away your deepest fears.

Teddy Bears don't run away.
But ever grinning they will stay
Between your sheets and arms at night
When Mommy comes turn out the light.

Teddy Bears don't ask for much
Besides a warm and gentle touch
So hold them tight and don't let go-
Forget your worry and your woe.
-KCN  July 31, 2012

I was journal browsing and came across this poem that my daughter wrote during a trip we took this summer.  She is by far, my favorite poet...most of her stuff is pretty philosophical and has deep illusions to heady stuff - this one is straight forward, but I like it because it reminds me of when she was herself,  teeny, tiny.  Her teddy bear came in the form of a "Tommy" baby doll.  She still  has him, I spied him among her things at her new apartment and I couldn't help but smile.
Most of God's sweetest graces are found in the simplest gifts, time with our loved ones and seeing their perspectives on things is a grace gift - I am so thankful for those moments when I think my heart must burst from the joy of it.  It is indeed, a profound paradox, that a world with its deep fallen-ness can make a heart so forlorn and its smallest, sweet joys can make a heart exuberant.  I am very thankful that this world is not boring, vanilla perfect.  What kind of story would that be? 

For You

The saints should never be dismayed
Nor sink in hopeless fear,
For when they least expect his aid,
The Savior will appear.

This Abraham found, he raised the knife;
God saw, and said, "Forbear!"
Yon, ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there."

Once David seem'd Saul's certain prey;
But hark! The foes at hand;
Saul turned his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.

When Jonah sunk beneath the wave
He thought to rise no more;
But God prepared a fish to save
And bear him to the shore.

Blessed proofs of power and grace divine,
That meet us in His word!
May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.

Wait for His seasonable aid,
And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delayed,
But cannot come to late.
-William Cowper

I ran into this in my journal and alighted on it... deep-felt care = promise long delayed.  Mr. Cowper is speaking my language.  Have you been there?  If you're breathing I trust you have, it's the way of Father - to have us needing him - and of course, we need to feel hunger before we seek our fill.
And we, being good parents, feed our children: how much more so our heavenly Father who is perfect.

A prayer from French Reformed Liturgy:

Do not fear, says the Lord for I have redeemed you, I called you by your name, you are mine.  When the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed, says the Lord, my kindness shall not depart from you, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed.  Little child, for you Jesus Christ came into the world, labored and suffered; for you, he went through the agony of Gethsemane and the darkness of Calvary, for you, he cried:  It is finished!; for you he triumphed over death; yes, for you, little child, the declaration holds true, We love God, because he first loved us. Amen!

When we long for life without difficulties remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure.
-Peter Marshall